


five times mark farted on yuta (and one time he finally did something about it)

by nelsy (eulyhne_syios)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: 'you can feel the air coming in', 4 am in the morn and mark's yellin at eggs, Crack and Drama, Gen, a whole lotta farting, also mark feat. eggs, also smidgen of lumark at the end, and being unsuccessful, based on that one vlive where yuta complains about mark's farts, g'night yall, i cant with this kid, i still remember 'our pants popped', i was rolling, idk man i feel like my entire ao3 career has turned into clowning mark lee, so basically 2k of yuta trying to escape mark's farts, someone save yuta pls, yup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2018-11-21
Packaged: 2019-08-26 23:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16690765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eulyhne_syios/pseuds/nelsy
Summary: “So Mark farts a lot—“Okay, okay, yo, yo, yo —I don’t think fans actually wanna h—“And then he apologizes after —but he’s not even sorry about it—“-Yooo—orAfter having been farted on about five times (and probably more, God knows at this point), Yuta decides enough is enough and it’s time to take matters into his own hands.(also he tried calling Lucas about it, but he’s an unofficial Ghostbuster not Gasbuster, so unfortunately wasn’t much help at all…)





	five times mark farted on yuta (and one time he finally did something about it)

**Author's Note:**

> hell yeah my extra ass is back

**fart one: 4:02 am**

 

Feet hitting the icy cold kitchen tiles, Yuta flicks on the light to see Mark standing by the stove, frozen, an egg in either hand. Like some kinda wack Egg Mcmuffin Buddha or some shit. Doesn’t seem to have noticed him, so Yuta goes over, pokes the guy in the back a few times.

 

Mark blinks, looking over. “-y-yo…?”

 

“Mark, what are you _—_

 

He groans, pressing the cold eggs over his eyes, facing the ceiling. “- _ughhhhh_...legit _all I want is a kimchi omelette_...literally standing here _for_ _almost 20 minutes —staring at the pan because I can’t—_

 

“Wait, wh _—_

 

“ _Can’t get the eggs to egg because they won’t egg and I can’t egg—_

 

“ _Wh—_

 

Mark glared at him impatiently, eggs still over his eyes, like he’d had to explain this a dozen times already. “ _-hyung, I’m trying to impel the yolk spirit to release itself from the host shell —I need it t—_

 

“-But can’t you just uh, _crack_ the e _—_

 

_“Noooo —if I break the seal, I’ll release the angry chicken spirit —it’ll possess the eggs in our fridge and give us diarrh—_

 

“Mark, the eggs we bought last week had salmonella, okay, we weren’t _—_

 

_“-I know you’re in there, Chicken Little, just continue to breathe —in the power of Mark Lee, I will set you fr—_

 

Snatches the poor eggs away from him, knocking them gently on the counter, frowning when they won’t break. Squeezes them _—_ nothing, actually applies pressure this time _—_ still nothing _—_ hurls one at the sink, jolting Mark from the jarring clang. Peers down, sees tidbits of the shell have splintered off, revealing the shiny solid interior.

 

“Mark, the eggs aren’t _possessed,_ they’re just _fro—_ wait, what are you d _—_

 

“-texting Lucas _—I can’t have a Poultrygeist madass flappin’ around_ and _killin’ my vibe_ in this house, yo _—_

 

The other guy sighed and decided to just leave him to it, yanking open the fridge, sinking down and digging for the leftover takeout he needed. Finds the egg carton right by the foam container, picks out two decent looking ones, turns around _—_

 

_“Bfhbffvghhfdhhgghghghghfhgf—_

 

**...**

 

**fart two: 2:35 pm**

 

Technically, the whole thing wasn’t even _his_ fault. Yuta’s scrubbing at his roots, hot shower water hitting his back, still salty at having been farted on _—and in the face,_ for that matter. Had gotten so winded by Hurricane Mark Lee _—goddamn angry chicken spirit was in his ass, not the eggs,_ didn’t even remember if the guy apologized afterwards. Probably did _—_ for the record, the dude was Canadian. Anyhow, now he’s trying to erase his brain (Thanks, Jooheon) by busily humming _Dreaming_ , when someone bangs on the door:

 

“Yeah?” Yells out the shower curtain.

 

“Yo, hyung, I gotta _pee_ _—Lucas just clogged the other toilet with his japchae disaster —_ literally _told_ the dude not to buy it, man _—_ peppers looked _mad crusty as f—_

 

“-Okay, okay _—_ just _hurry up_ and g _—_

 

Door swings open, brief gust of air sending goosebumps over Yuta’s shoulders. Glares over at the other guy, waving at him to slam the door closed. Bends over, picks up the conditioner, just to find out it’s gone empty.

 

“Yo, Mark! Hey _—_ can you get me some more conditioner from the drawer, it’s in left si _—_

 

“-Yeah, yeah, I found it, I found it _—_ one second, hyung.”

 

About another thirteen seconds pass, Yuta scoffs, dragging back the curtain. “-hey, Mark, yo, what's the m _—_

 

Somehow, Mark’s butt’s in the air again, dude seems to be struggling to _—_ “-yo, what the _actual_ shit _—damn bottle’s stuck to the bottom of the drawer, man—_

 

“ _Wh—_

 

_“-Yo, for real —Taeyong’s hair gel exploded down here and now the whole thing’s dried up and crusted over the thi—_

 

“Oi, Mark, _you better not be jo—_

 

_“Why would I be joking abo—_

 

A gigantic _snap_ erupts from the drawer  _—_ next second, Mark’s reeling backwards, ass slamming straight through the shower curtain, both of them of them crashing onto the floor of the tub. Huffing, Mark blinks, sweats completely soaked, calves dangling over the tub’s edge, most of his shirt drenched tight over his back too. Looks over at Yuta apologetically.

 

“Uh, hey, um, sorry, y-you oka _—_

 

_“Bfhbffvghhfdhhgghghghghghfghghfhghf—_

 

**...**

 

**fart three: 7:18 pm**

 

Yuta’s just casually walking down the hall when he sees Mark curled up by the wall beside Jaehyun, both their hoodies thrown over their heads, peering at something on Jae’s phone. Mark looks emo as hell, seems to be biting back tears.

 

“Yo, Mark, what’s wr _—_

 

Peers down to have his eyes assaulted by Firetruck era _—_ Mark looking close to bald in that mustard yellow beanie, boxy black apron strapped over an angry orange sweatshirt, metallic legs clashing with a near floor-length red-black checkered kilt. Standing right next to him is Haechan donning a similar monstrosity, both staring into the camera, dead inside.

 

_“I’m just tryna flex on these hoes.”_ Mark sniffled, glass of apple juice in one hand, reading the comments. _“-but I can’t—_

 

Throws himself onto Jae’s shoulder, can’t look at the picture anymore, it’s too much, he saw a little kid dressed up like this on the street just yesterday and almost started cr _—_ The other guy sighs, patting him sympathetically on the back. “-shh, be quiet, don’t cry _—_ haters gonna hate, man. You’re the biggest pit on the stage now, Mark, that’s all that matters.”

 

He looks up, nodding at Jae gratefully (the other also grateful that he didn’t catch his vocal fumble yet again). “-aww, arigato, man.” Sniffles. “-and you lived in America for four years _—_

 

“-that’s why I’m here, man.” Squeezes his shoulder, nodding. “-hey, hey, it’s okay — _geokjeonghajima, so what we hot w—_

 

“- _woop woop woop woop woop, sobangcha._ ” He blurted, sucking up the snot in his nose. Jaehyun looks back at him weirdly, but doesn’t say anything. “-uh, okay, Mark, um — _na na na na na na, eopseo palli pihae right Cherry B-_

 

_“-Bust it bust it bust it, for a real one, real one…”_ Shakes his head, wiping his eyes. “-for real though, I’d bust three for Winwin, you feel m—

 

“-Yup, yup, yeah, sure...” Jaehyun nods uneasily, reminding himself to never let Mark have apple juice ever again (because apparently _somebody_ got the game fucked up — _ahem, Johnny —_ and replaced the kid-friendly drink with something more on the lines of _whi_ —)

 

Yuta blinked, feeling like he just watched an episode of Teletubbies while high and was about to leave when Mark clears his throat. “-Yuta-hyung, sorry, can you get me a glass of _—_

 

“Yeah, sure thing, I’ll just...” Sinks down to grab th _—_

 

_“Bfhbffvghhfdhhgghghghghgghghghghf—_

 

**...**

 

**fart four: 8:43 pm**

 

_I’m just going to the convenience store to get some Takis,_ Yuta thought as he headed down the street, hoodie pulled over his head, hands shoved in his pockets. _Nothing can possibly go wrong now._

 

Winces as the bright fluorescence hits his eyes, chimes ringing behind him, going straight for the snack aisle. _Takis, Takis, Takis —yup, there they are —_ freezing when he sees them rustling oddly along the shelf —in unison, like it was some kind of—

 

Pushes the first row into his shopping basket —nearly jumps four feet in the air, knocking into the opposite aisle—

 

“ _Haechan_ — _what are y—_

 

“ _Zip_ it, hyung.” The younger clamps a hand over his mouth. A few more jumbo packs of Trident Layers hit the floor behind them. “-we’re playing hide and seek in the store —hurry up and put the Takis back, _I’m winning this bi—_

 

“Uh, o-okay…” Starts lining the chip bags back on, more impressed that Haechan’s managed to squeeze himself inside the damn shelf than his genius hiding place. “-hey, pass me some Takis from the back—

 

“-‘kay, here—

 

Tosses them right back in his face. “-yo, those were _right next to your butt—_

 

“Okay, okay, _here_ —

 

“You know, this is really freaking unbelieva—

 

“-Woah, Yuta-hyung —whatchu doing talking to a _shelve of Takis—_

 

_“PAAAA!!!”_

 

_“OhmiGaAHhHhhH—_

 

Mark sprang into his arms, screeching at Hyuck's head popping outta the row of Takis, the other guy gasping as he rolls off the shelf, arms cradling his gut, shaking. “ _-holy cr—_ daebak, _jinjja_ daebak _—_ I scared you so good, Mark Lee…”

 

“Shut up, Hyuck!” He snapped, still clinging onto Yuta like a baby animal. “-I'm _not_ scared, you know how I _know_ _—I fart when I'm scared and I'm n—_

 

_“Bfhbffvghhfdhhgghghghghgghghghghghdfbfdfhgfdghf—_

 

**...**

 

**fart five: 10:37 pm**

 

“Sichengie, I am _not_ exaggerating…” Yuta groaned from the next stall. “- _Mark's farts are actually targeting me —I can't get away from this sh—_

 

“-That's just silly, hyung. Maybe you're having a bad day. Or like, maybe Mark's been eating too much edamame lately _—_

 

“ _-I'm_ _literally hiding in here instead of helping Taeil stretch after practice because I just want five minutes of decent oxyg—_

 

“-Good to know _—_ hey, Yuta-hyung, can you pass me some toilet paper, mine just ran out…”

 

“Oh, yeah, sure _—_ here,” Slips his hand under the gap with an entire roll (the paper dispenser in his stall was broken, he just grabbed a full one).

 

“Thanks.” Somebody's stomach gurgled. “-God, I'm _so_ hungry...I feel like I burned off my entire pancreas from practice…”

 

“-Hey, I got a bunch of Takis from the store, we can share some later.” He taps the stall wall reassuringly. Adds romantically. “-I think Haechan farted all over them, though…”

 

Winwin snort-scoffed. “-okay, hyung, your obsession with flatulence is starting to creep me out…”

 

“-hey, I never chose the farts,” Yuta protested jokingly, swinging the stall door open, going over to wash his hands. “- _the farts chose m—_

 

“-Aw, _shit_ , man.” Someone cried. Bends over, reaching an arm down the waste bin. “-dropped my damn phone in the _tra—_

 

Yuta’s heart sank, seeing Mark’s bum point in his direction from his peripheral vision. _Oh, my God, no, no, no, n—_

 

_“Bfhbffvghhfdhhgghghghghgghghghghghdfbfdfhgfdghfghfghfghf—_

 

**...**

 

**3:27 am**

 

“I gotta do something about it.”

 

That's what Yuta thought three hours earlier, and somehow he wasn't any closer to finding the answer, on the bed, in the dark, laptop balanced on his knees.

 

“Dammit, all these things are just _reasons_ _why people fart,_ not _how to stop them fr—_

 

At 4 am in the morning, Mark receives a strange text from Yuta telling him to breathe less, eat fewer vegetables, stop chewing gum, eat smaller more frequent meals, lay off the soda (and beer and apple juice etc.) and stay the hell away from beans, potatoes, bananas and any other gas-producing carbs. He ends it with a somewhat passive-aggressive note to check for any secret food allergies with his doctor and treat his underlying constipation problem, if applicable. The whole thing is one fat blob, so obviously he is left on read ( _Seen at 4:02 am_ ).

 

Lucas stirs in his sleep, squinting at Mark staring at the glowing screen of his phone. “-nn, Markeu what’s going on…?”

 

The other guy yawns, shaking his head. “-Yuta-hyung’s mad at me for farting, I guess…” Sleepily sets his phone back on the table. “-ughh...what am I supposed to do, like, stop farting…?”

 

“That’s ridiculous, hyung. Nothing’s wrong with farting. It’s a part of life.”

 

“Exactly…” He shifts back into his pillow, getting comfortable. “-thanks, Xuxi,”

 

“I gotchu.” Moves in closer, resting his chin on the other’s shoulder. “-now go back to sleep.”

 

Sometime later, a tiny gurgled spurf emanates from under the blankets. With one lazy arm, Lucas lifts the covers and flaps out the remaining captive farts.

 

He has to do this for about another eighteen times the rest of the night.

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> farting ain't a bad thing y'all, just practice good fartiquette and try not to do it yo homie's face aight. peace.


End file.
